Heart Of The Sun Star Trek 83

by George Zebrowski

  Spock took off his utility suit, then removed his backpack and portable equipment from it. After attaching his communicator and now-useless phaser to his belt and slipping his tricorder case over his shoulder, he picked up the backpack and made his way again to the place where the life-form readings had been strongest. It was logical to conclude that somewhere on this mobile some intelligence was attempting to avoid the coming catastrophe.

  He came to the narrowing of the passageway and began to squeeze through to the turn. He pushed through, careful not to become wedged between the walls, then took his communicator from his belt, set the channel to tie into the subspace communicator core backpack, and flipped it open. The communicator should have enough range to work through the backpack, which he would leave here.

  “Captain,” Spock said, “I have reached an open right hand turn, and am going forward.” The walls of the narrow passageway were slippery, almost wet, and felt as though they might either close on him or suddenly give way. “The walls have an odd texture to them, but that may make it easier for me to pass through.”

  “Noted,” Kirk responded. “Spock, we’re …” The captain was silent.

  “Captain?”

  “We’re going to have to change course within two hours.”

  “I understand. Spock out.”

  He squeezed through the passage, then checked the temperature reading with his tricorder, expecting to see a slight rise, but there was nothing. Close enough to the sun, this green and black interior would become a geometrical inferno. His Vulcan physiology made him able to tolerate fairly high temperatures by human standards, but beyond his own limits he would surely die. When the mobile entered the sun, he would be far beyond all limits.

  He moved through the corridor slowly. Ahead, he saw a strange glow—odd because there seemed to be a tinge of blue in the green. He narrowed his eyes, studying the slightly different color of the glow until he was sure that what he saw was not an illusion. He closed his eyes and felt his way along the passageway, and suddenly sensed that he was nearing—what?

  Spock opened his eyes. He stood in front of an open, oval entrance. Quickly, he took more readings with his tricorder. Life-forms—and the readings were stronger than ever.

  He stepped inside and found himself in a domelike interior. He turned, looking around the chamber, then took measurements with his tricorder. Although the circumference of the floor looked circular, it was actually an oval, and near its center a heptagonal panel jutted from the floor’s black surface.

  As he approached, his tricorder readings told him that it was four meters high and a half-meter thick. Light streaked across its surface. This, according to his tricorder, was the source of the life-form readings.

  The lights flickered and darted like ghostly fish through a solid ocean, and Spock hypothesized that, to one degree or another, they might be capable of motion through the solid material of the mobile. That would account for some of the tricorder’s earlier readings. The life-forms inside the heptagonal wall might be the remains of the mobile’s artificial intelligences; or perhaps they were what was left of the builders themselves, who had translated themselves into their artifact.

  It occurred to Spock at that moment that the alien forms might be living in a kind of subjectively eternal hell, trapped in their suffering for eons, but had finally been able to steer their container, their ancient instrumentality, toward the release of death. Perhaps their creators had abandoned them, left them to evolve fortuitously into a greater, more painful awareness. The Enterprise, he realized again, might very well be engaged in a struggle with an alien bent on suicide.

  * * *

  Kirk sat at his command station, considering what else to attempt, then got to his feet and turned aft. “Massoud,” he said to the science officer, “would it be possible to punch a hole in that field and beam Spock out?”

  Massoud replied, “Picking up a material object and maintaining its integrity through such a field is a formidable problem. He’d be scrambled, at best.”

  “I wager we’d lose the subject completely,” Scotty added from engineering. “We canna’ take the chance.”

  “How about trying with something inanimate,” Kirk said, “just to give us an idea of what’s possible.”

  “Aye,” Scotty responded, “we could try that.”

  “We must try everything,” Kirk insisted. Myra Coles was staring fixedly at him; Yeoman Barrows moved closer to the Tyrtaean woman, as if preparing to restrain her. But Myra would not give vent to her feelings now; the situation seemed to have finally defeated her, as it might soon defeat them all.

  “Send Spock an extra phaser,” Kirk said. “He might need it.”

  “Phaser ready to be beamed to the mobile,” Kyle said from the transporter room. “Locking on.”

  “Kirk to Spock,” Kirk said. “We’re sending you a present.”

  “I will remain at this position until I receive it, Captain,” Spock replied.

  Kirk caught the eye of Wellesley Warren; the young man gazed back with sympathy. Kirk imagined what lay ahead: the loss of Spock, changes in the solar output caused by the alien mobile, he and Myra Coles engaged in their dance of accusation and counter-accusation when a court-martial hearing was called. She would have to argue that he and the Enterprise crew should have left the mobile alone, that they had thoughtlessly triggered responses in the alien unknown, that he had ignored her advice. And she would be right, up to a point, knowing that she would have to make such arguments before her people in order to have any chance of saving herself.

  But exploring the unknown, especially alien artifacts, was a standing Starfleet order. And it might turn out that Tyrtaeus II would be unaffected by the alien’s plunge into the sun.

  He sat down at his station. “Kirk to Spock.”

  “Spock here.”

  “Did you get what we sent you?”

  “Yes, Captain, and the phaser appears to be intact.”

  “Mr. Scott, listen carefully.” Kirk took a breath. “As a last resort, could we risk beaming Spock out, at full power and scanning resolution?”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Scotty said. “It’s too risky.”

  “But he’ll die anyway if he’s left there.”

  “True, Captain,” Spock said. “I believe that we are now at the point where almost any action or inaction is likely to lead to my demise.” He was silent for a moment. “I must report that the phaser you beamed in to me is devoid of its charge. Coming through the heavy field around this mobile has apparently drained it.”

  “Then that’s that,” Scotty muttered.

  “Spock,” Kirk continued, “do you want us to try to beam you out at the last minute?”

  Moments passed with no answer.

  “It will be your decision,” Kirk added. A knot twisted inside him.

  “Negative, Captain. At best, I would be stored as scrambled or incomplete information in the transporter, with almost no chance of regaining coherence.”

  “Good God, man!” McCoy burst out. “Do you prefer a certain death?”

  “A nearly certain death, Doctor.” Spock’s voice seemed a bit fainter. “There is still a chance—a very small one, to be sure, but a chance—that I can find some sort of control panel.”

  “Captain,” Scotty cut in, “the mobile’s field density is increasing, and its acceleration is increasing by a factor of five each second.”

  “Spock?” Kirk said. “Spock? Can you hear me?” There was no answer, and he knew what Scotty’s next words would be.

  “The field’s cut off the subspace link, Captain,” the chief engineer continued, “and the mobile is leaving us behind. We’re at full impulse now. It’ll hit the sun in less than half an hour.”

  * * *

  Spock stood before the alien panel, studying his tricorder readings. By now, the sun would be very near, and yet the temperature inside the mobile remained steady. He knew that as the mobile entered the sun, it would begin to ablate material from
its outer surface, until the inner shells were reached. Heat would be expected to increase at any time now, until everything inside was incinerated. The asteroid would burst like a kernel of popcorn and be dispersed as a gas in the upper reaches of the solar atmosphere.

  He did not have much time left.

  His reason kept insisting that his only hope for survival was in this alien panel, assuming that it was a control center of some kind. But the panel might be a device beyond his power to comprehend, a purely aesthetic artifact, or even a virtual world in which the alien life-forms lived, oblivious to their coming fate.

  Spock put his hand against the panel, and suddenly the chamber darkened. An image of the space around the mobile appeared on the inside of the oval surface, covering it completely. Stars shone, and the sun of Tyrtaeus II was near enough now to take up a quarter of the field. The Enterprise, hanging nearby like an ornament, still paced the mobile, but he knew that very soon it would have to turn away. These stellar images were all in a dim, black and white monochrome. This was another sign of how unlike humans and Vulcans the builders of this artifact must have been; the display had clearly been built for beings with a very different visual physiology.

  Strangely, as the sun ate up the field of view in the oval chamber, his tncorder did not register any change in temperature. He checked the readings often, certain that the tricorder was not malfunctioning, and concluded that this lack of temperature increase had to be caused by a temporary benefit offered by the alien technology. Even if the mobile resisted disintegration for a time as it entered the sun, the buildup of heat inside it would be unstoppable, at least by any cooling system that he knew.

  With this artifact’s endurance, Spock thought, he might live long enough to see the mobile engulfed—from the inside—as the entire inner viewing surface of the oval chamber became a sheet of seething, falsely cold light.

  He continued to gaze at the chamber’s starry display. At last he saw the bright bauble that was the Enterprise begin to pull back, and he knew that his end was very near….

  * * *

  “Captain,” Scotty cried from engineering, “that damned thing is still accelerating, like a spear shooting straight for the sun!”

  Kirk did not answer as he searched for a way out of the dilemma, a way out for Spock. The Vulcan had to come out. It was as simple as that: he had to come out. It could be done easily, by simply reaching in through the alien field and grabbing him—mangling him in the process. He would be out: hopelessly damaged but out. Repairable? Kirk asked himself if he dared try it, even if Spock refused.

  “Scotty, how close can we go in?”

  “A ways still, but what’s the point? There’s nothing we can do.”

  Nothing, Kirk thought, except to pull Spock out through a shredder.

  “Scotty, can we still transport through that thing’s field?”

  The engineer did not answer for a few moments.

  “Scotty?”

  “No, Captain. Nothing can get through now, in any way. It’s a wall.”

  Kirk sat back and took a deep breath. Even that slim hope was gone.

  “Pull away, Mister Sulu,” Kirk ordered, his voice breaking. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

  Sulu obeyed the order.

  As the Enterprise pulled back, the alien mobile seemed to become fixed on the bright disk of the sun, a dark spot becoming smaller with each second.

  It became a point, and seemed to hang there for an eternity. Kirk did not have the heart to order further magnification of the object carrying his friend to a blazing death.

  The black point winked out.

  Janice Rand bowed her head.

  “Oh, no,” whispered Tonia Barrows. Kirk felt a hand grip his shoulder and knew it was McCoy’s. Looking up, Kirk saw that the physician was not only struggling to contain his own feelings, but also worrying about his captain’s mental state.

  And then the bridge was silent, except for the intermittent beeping of its instruments, and Kirk had the foolish notion that this was the hushed silence before some cosmic surprise party, when all the goodness in the universe would leap out of the darkness and reverse this tragedy. The loss of Spock became even more painful as he tried to imagine the foreboding and fear that would already be preying on the minds of Myra Coles and Wellesley Warren. Whatever now happened to this sun could not be prevented. His mostly diplomatic mission to Tyrtaeus II, so routine in the beginning, had failed in a way that he could not have anticipated; and he would not have Spock at his side to deal with the consequences.

  He tried to see ahead to what those might be: the evacuation of a colony; court-martial; the end of his career; an all-too-human bitterness which would be with him for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Ten

  THE BRIDGE OF the Enterprise became a timeless place, silent except for the sounds of instruments like insects. Human will had failed to have its way. This was nothing new, McCoy told himself, seeing into James Kirk’s mind and finding there the usual appalled, insulted sensibility that demanded to be exempted, that behaved as though it could never bet on the losing numbers of the wheel. That was what his friend Jim had always wanted, and it was astonishing how often he got his way. He kept his few failures in a dark dungeon below the foundations of his mind, expecting them to die there when merciful memory erased them. But all that McCoy could see now, looking ahead, was a man who might one day be left standing alone, with all that he had known gone, struggling not to care, but caring nonetheless….

  Ironically, what had always saved Kirk was his Starfleet training. Combined with his basic temperament, it allowed him to recognize the next best thing in the face of imminent defeat. Even when it was obvious that the game itself could not be changed, he would labor to accomplish the third or fourth best thing. Jim would accept Spock’s loss, mourn him, and then deal with the next problem.

  Yeoman Barrows glanced at him, as if somehow agreeing with his thoughts, then turned her gaze back to Kirk. She and Janice Rand stood stiffly, their faces tense, their eyes on their captain as they awaited his next order. Blasted Vulcan, McCoy thought, realizing abruptly how much he would miss Spock.

  “Mr. Massoud,” Kirk said hoarsely, “are there signs of any disturbances in the sun from having swallowed the alien vessel?”

  “None, Captain,” the science officer replied.

  “But it’s too early to tell,” Scotty’s voice said over the intercom.

  Kirk did not turn to look in the direction of Myra Coles. McCoy glanced aft and saw the concern in the Tyrtaean woman’s eyes.

  “Mr. Sulu,” Kirk said, “set course for a return to a standard orbit around Tyrtaeus II.” His voice was as decisive as McCoy had ever heard it.

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Sulu responded.

  Again, the instruments sang on a silent bridge. Kirk sat back at his command station and closed his eyes for a moment, and it seemed to McCoy that he was searching for Spock within himself.

  “Captain!” Uhura called out suddenly. “I’m picking up a subspace signal … out of the sun! It seems to be … Mr. Spock!”

  Kirk sat up as if awakened from a nightmare. McCoy looked toward Uhura. The communications officer was shaking her head, looking as unbelieving as he felt.

  “Let’s hear it, Lieutenant,” Kirk said grimly, as if expecting nothing. Perhaps, McCoy thought, struggling against the hope that was rising inside of him. The message might be nothing more than some kind of delayed signal.

  “Spock to Enterprise,” the Vulcan said, his voice filling the bridge. “Captain, as incredible as it may seem, I am alive and well.”

  Yeoman Barrows cried out and clutched at McCoy’s arm. Behind him, McCoy heard a gasp.

  “Spock!” Kirk shouted, leaning forward. “Where are you?”

  “I would say, with a high degree of confidence, that I am in what might be called a subspace sun-core station. Is my signal coming from the sun?”

  “Yes, it is,” Uhura answered.

 
“Spock, what’s happened?” Kirk asked with relief.

  “From my observations,” Spock replied, “here in what seems to be a control center, the mobile entered the sun through a warp window, which opened, after some difficulty, to receive the mobile. I would say, from what has happened so far, that the mobile knew where it was going.”

  “But will it stay there?” Kirk asked.

  “There seems to be no further activity. For the moment, I plan to stay in this control area, where I expect to be able to gather more information. There is a kind of screen in front of me, which now shows nothing. The life-forms detected earlier seem to be part of the very structure of the mobile, with more intensive readings registering in the instrumentation site—if I may call it that—before which I am standing.”

  “We have to get you out of there,” Kirk said, and McCoy nodded in agreement. The mobile had defied their predictions so far; there was no telling what might happen now.

  “I would consider that advisable, Captain,” Spock said, “but I doubt that the transporter can cut through both the sun’s fields and the subspace barrier. I also do not think that we can call this space, within which the core station is located, subspace as we know it. Perhaps it should more properly be described as a kind of ‘otherspace,’ congruent with but shielded from the sun’s interior state in normal space. Any other configuration would be intolerable to any physical structure. I do not see any obvious immediate danger, but one must ask how long this oasis will sustain itself. It may be quite old and subject to chaotic instabilities.”

  “You mean that it might fail,” McCoy said softly, “and be engulfed by the sun.”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “Is there anything you might be able to do before then?” Kirk asked.

  “I shall attempt to discover how to open the warp window that seems to be the entrance to this station. If I am successful, I suggest that you send in a probe. If it arrives safely, you could then send in a shuttlecraft for me, since I have no other means of exiting.”

  McCoy was growing impatient and fearful as he listened. The vagueness and generality of the Vulcan’s suggestions seemed unequal to the task.